Through Him
by The Feesh
Summary: So says Morgan's brain..A shorty on Transformers culture. RR please, critique encouranged.


A throng of warm bodies bustled and pressed against one another, bumper to bumper, butt to butt, shoulder to shoulder in some tightly-packed places as the mass shifted like a flock of birds in beat to the music being played. The ocean played it's own tune to accompany the throbbing beat emanating from the concert speakers, crashing and playing to its own secret rhythm while the inhabitants voices rose up in tandem. Out on the beach the crowd circled around a massive bonfire that lit up the night, accompanied by the extra light of torches in a human-esque celebration scene, but the beings involved in the event of dance and merry-making were as different from terrans as oil was from water. Their skin shone and reflected the warped light cast from the ever-moving ballet created by the bonfire, pulses racing with silver liquid rather than red. Heartbeat replaced by fuel-pulse, mechanics in the place of organics, but the feelings that flew through similarly built but purely metal-based neuro-systems were the same.

Like the humans of earth, these beings, these living machines, were out to have a good time. Entire communities gathered in events very similar to these, with bonfires and music, singing and dance, art and a certain sense of brotherly love different from the typical camaraderie seen in the race of Transformers. Smiles and handshakes were exchanged as even the most standoffish of robots set their differences aside to join the festivities known as the "Gatherings". Personal enemies were temporarily forgiven of their sins upon another in order to share in the grins and laughs of the party that, on most occasions lasted until the wee hours of the morn and was a happy cause of many businesses being closed to next day to allow both workers and bosses the time to rest up from the joint activity. The more chatty types caught up on the neighborhood gossip, while others passed around fine highgrade, otherwise pricey, for free, but only on that night. It was a night of celebration, of togetherness, and it successfully outlined the race of Maximals, and Transformers as a whole, in being one of the few to establish such a strong community bond.

The music ebbed and rose with the tide as the hours dragged on.

The Gatherings were not always huge affairs. Small groups of friends oftentimes congregated in one place to listen to music or dance, or even just to draw or read in silence, comforted by each other's company alone. Contests were held, art shows common, and karaoke was also quite popular in local bars and taverns. Much like some nations on Earth, the Maximals living in this community based themselves almost solely on fellowship and several variants of artful practice. The city itself reflected that in its design – jutting corners and soft curves all alight in ivory presented itself to the naked eye in the form of lofty buildings and magnificent towers, for the city itself was a piece of art that the natives prided themselves in.

The close-knit race of Transformers, however, on the other side of the table, were fiercely protective of their home and backed it up with a vicious military force second-to-none. That firey side of the nation caught Cybertron's attention shortly after they established themselves in the universe. Relations between the two peoples were established in the way of import and export, and in exchange for Cybertron's supporting the small nation with energon and such supplies, the race agreed to train Cybertron's military forces for them.

The relationship was successful, despite the new race's general hesitation. Over the years, the unfortunate occurred: Cybertron slowly but surely exuded its influence over the citizens, and soon gained enough political power through the bond of energy to rule it. The new nation with it's unique peoples became property of Cybertron within a century, as they feared in the beginning. Rebellion began, but was quickly squelched by energon. Cybertron dangled the energy source that the peoples relied on over their heads, blackmailing them into cooperation, much to the peoples chagrin. Millennia passed, but the peoples refused to be further influenced. The Gatherings continued regardless, friendship between neighbors never ceased, in spite of Cybertron's initial attempts to force the colony into complete military mindset. So Cybertron was forced to settle for the uneasy bond between themselves and the smaller society by ways of training and energy. Life exchanged for the skills needed to kill.

Finally, as the rays of the bright sun corrupted the blackness of night, the celebration was brought to a throbbing, mind blowing end.

No matter the relationships that bonded the people together, regardless of their strong union towards one another, and notwithstanding the terrible military forces capable, the small colony was brought down from the inside out. The culture, unique of all Transformers yet horribly overlooked and used, was destroyed in the end when Fate pointed its bony, death-bringing finger at the unfortunate nation. Ultimately, Cybertron was the race's end.

But somewhere, in the heart of an individual who's pulse still throbs, resounds the pounding rhythm of an entire nation. In his veins flows the blood and rage of a homeworld destroyed, the essence of a thousand others who ceased to exist. In the mind of one still standing, Omicron and all it's culture continues to exist.


End file.
